day by day in a marriage that's out of love

morning

Of course, in the excruciating light of morning I am calm enough to recognise that while ‘I don’t know’ may hurt as much as ‘No’, it isn’t the same. It’s a different sort of blade, less stiletto, more serrated, catching on your flesh and leaving nasty sensitive tatters of hope, rather than a clean, kind death blow to the heart.

Or perhaps more like being bitten by a snake; although I’m aware of how injured I am, I lack the clarity to either walk away or lie down and die, just a muddled desire to do both and an awareness of the bitter poison spreading through me.

And talking of desire, being turned down for sex is still relatively new and painful, too; the awkward silence and pretending to go to sleep, the trying not to touch in the night, the emptiness of the day without closeness or comfort. This is an equal rights taste of a man’s world I cannot recommend.

But not being a man, today I am more like a dog, my eyes always loyally following the source of my torment, searching for clues to the painful puzzle of how to please; and, not being a dog, the poison spreads and I despise myself for being nothing at all.